Three Seconds
by ArwenisWholocked
Summary: One-shot for Book-Quotes! Boot Camp Challenge by FandaticForeverAndAlways; Mad-Eye Moody's last thoughts in the three seconds between Mundungus Fletcher's abandonment of Moody and Moody's death at the hand of Voldemort. I just realised that I misspelled Moody's first name for the entire thing... darn. Oh well.


**Three Seconds**

**A/N: Hey, y'all! This is another one-shot (surprise, surprise, right?) based on Mundungus Fletcher and Mad-Eye Moody when the latter is killed in **_**Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows**_**. I wrote this for the Book-Quotes Boot Camp from FandaticForeverAndAlways.**

**Enjoy!**

**Love,**

**Arwen ;)**

"_**Betrayal. That's the first thing I feel, which is ludicrous. For there to be betrayal, there would have had to be trust first."**_

_**Katniss Everdeen, **_**The Hunger Games**

_** Three seconds, three billion nanoseconds, two tenths of a minute.**_

That was the space of time between Mundungus Fletcher's panicked flight and the flash of green light that ended Alastair Moody's life. He'd counted.

_**One thousand nanoseconds. **_

His first feeling was confusion. The Dark Lord was flying _**alongside**_ of him, his pallid face twisted into a snarl, his black robes streaming behind him like smoke, as if he wasn't quite there. The long, white fingers curled elegantly around a yew wand which was directed, for the moment, at nothing in particular… however, Mad-Eye could tell instantly by the way Voldemort gripped the wand that, within the next fraction of a second, the wand would be pointed at him.

_**Twenty-eight millionths of a second.**_

The second emotion that gripped him was alarm. A panicked yelp had just burst out of Mundungus Fletcher from behind Mad-Eye; Moody swiveled his magical eye around in its socket and stared out the back of his head. Dung—disguised as (a rather green-around-the-gills) Harry Potter—had slid off of his broom, preparing to jump off of it, his eyes wild with fright and desperation. A wave of realisation swept over Moody—Dung was going to disapparate.

"No!" Moody growled, furious; but too late. With a crack, Mundungus vanished into thin air, his broom plummeting to the ground—leaving Moody alone and without back-up.

_** Three hundred and sixty-eight millionths of a minute.**_

But, Moody resolved, he would not go down without a fight. He pulled back slightly on his broom so that he would be a little behind Voldemort and readjusted his grip on his wand.

_**Fifty-two million nanoseconds.**_

Moody opened his mouth to utter the curse.

_Two simple words, _he thought. _Two words are all it will take… and then, it'll be over._

_**Eighty-nine thousandths of a second.**_

Suddenly, Voldemort jerked to avoid the tall sharp spire of a cathedral that loomed suddenly out of the clouds…

_**Two hundred and eight six hundredths of a minute.**_

And Moody swore vehemently as he lost valuable time as he swerved to avoid crashing into the cathedral's lethal spire. Furious with himself, he searched the skies frantically for a sight of Voldemort…

_**Seven hundred and twenty-three million nanoseconds.**_

Anxiety beginning to mix with his anger, Moody looked even harder for any sign of Voldemort—a killing curse, the high-pitched voice, _**anything**_.

_** Nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine millionths of a second.**_

_As useless as that stupid traitor was, _Moody suddenly found himself thinking, _I would have found Voldemort by now. _He cursed Mundungus Fletcher bitterly.

Fletcher had betrayed him, betrayed all of them.

But that was stupid, wasn't it? Because when had he, Alastair "Mad-Eye" Moody, held even an _**ounce **_of trust in Mundungus? When had _**anyone**_?

And yet, the feeling of betrayal remained.

_** Nine hundred and ninety-nine million, nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine nanoseconds.**_

Moody's eyes swept from left to right, a snarl fixed on his face. Curses and jinxes were flying everywhere, and a flash of green—

_Wait a moment… Was that-?!_

_**Two tenths of a minute.**_

_** Three billion nanoseconds.**_

_** Three seconds.**_

That was the space of time between Mundungus Fletcher's panicked flight and the flash of green light that—

**A/N: Well? What do you think? Let me know! You can hate on it, too, if you like… just no swearing, please. **

**Love,**

**Arwen ;)**


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